Where have the days gone....
Where did they drift....
As an unforgiving sun scorches the earth,
and as the sweat of the day plops to the floor,
and as the hard stiffened hand wipes tears unborn,
I wonder,
where have the days gone.
As I toil dry dirt with only my sweat to dampen its surface,
it seems it drinks hungrly...devouring what I emit from my soul.
Lord, OH, Lord, where have the days gone.
But I whisper.........
And I scream.......
for if I scream at the top of my voice,
no one will answer, so it seems.
This silence, this endless, tourtureous silence
it screams and is deafning to me, but I wait,
and I work.....and I cry.
My hands show emerging spots
and my wrinkles are no longer few,
and I wonder, silently and loudly,
where, dear Lord, have the days gone
and where was I.....where were you?
09/06/2005-By Judith Alegria-Gutierrez,21
A good beginning. Well composed. Ideas are excellent. A young poetess is born. She is Judy Algria.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
at 21, dear Judy, you shouldn't concern yourself about wrinkles and spots, unless you mean to use them as a metaphor. Good write though...